Performing National Identity During the English Musical Renaissance in A
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Making an English Voice: Performing National Identity during the English Musical Renaissance In a 1925 article for Music & Letters entitled ‘On the Composition of English Songs’, the British musicologist Edward J. Dent urged the ‘modern English composer’ to turn serious attention to the development of ‘a real technique of song-writing’.1 As Dent underlined, ‘song-writing affects the whole style of English musical composition’, for we English are by natural temperament singers rather than instrumentalists […] If there is an English style in music it is founded firmly on vocal principles, and, indeed, I have heard Continental observers remark that our whole system of training composers is conspicuously vocal as compared with that of other countries. The man who was born with a fiddle under his chin, so conspicuous in the music of Central and Eastern Europe, hardly exists for us. Our instinct, like that of the Italians, is to sing.2 Yet, as he quickly qualified: ‘not to sing like the Italians, for climactic conditions have given us a different type of language and apparently a different type of larynx’.3 1 I am grateful to Byron Adams, Daniel M. Grimley, Alain Frogley, and Laura Tunbridge for their comments on this research. E. J. Dent, ‘On the Composition of English Songs’, Music & Letters, 6.3 (July, 1925). 2 Dent, ‘On the Composition of English Songs’, 225. 3 Dent, ‘On the Composition of English Songs’, 225. 1 With this in mind, Dent outlined a ‘style of true English singing’ to which the English song composer might turn for his ‘primary inspiration’: a voice determined essentially by ‘the rhythms and the pace of ideal English speech – that is, of poetry’, but also, a voice that told of the instinctive ‘English temperament’. The English singer did not ‘let [himself] go in the way that Italians do’, for example, as Dent explained.4 That said, the English singer did, or should, indulge himself in a certain kind of abandon: ‘the natural man sings in his bath; he is in a state of nature’. This ‘natural state’, as Dent lamented, had been lost in ‘modern’ times: the ‘inhibition of natural vocal instinct is a product of modern civilisation, like the equally unnatural habit of reading poetry in silence’.5 Thus, Dent encouraged the song composer to rediscover his ‘pre- modern’ vocal instincts: to ‘go out into the garden and bawl at the top of [his] voice’, recovering the voice of ‘natural man’ in the creative act of his song.6 Central among Dent’s concerns in ‘On the Composition of English Songs’ was to promote improvement in standards of native art song composition by encouraging the English composer to take inspiration from an ‘ideal’ and historic mode of English declamation. As such, he contributed to a series of debates surrounding both song composition and singing in English that had emerged in the earliest issues of Music & Letters,7 and that gained momentum within British musical culture during the 1920s 4 Dent, ‘On the Composition of English Songs’, 225–6. 5 Dent, ‘On the Composition of English Songs’, 227. 6 Dent, ‘On the Composition of English Songs’, 226–7. 7 See, for example, Harry Plunket Greene, ‘The Future of the English Song: I. The Singer and the Public; II. The Singer and the Composer’, Music & Letters, 1.1 and 1.2 (1920), 19–26 and 123–34. 2 in particular.8 Lurking within such discussions, as within Dent’s article, was a notion that simultaneously emerged from but reached beyond questions of the pronunciation and declamation of English text: namely, the possibility of recovering a ‘pre-modern’, ‘natural’, and even somehow distinctively ‘English’ singing voice. This idea captured the imagination of British musical culture during the so-called ‘English musical renaissance’,9 a nationalistic movement in which musicians staged particular narratives and performances of cultural renewal, negotiating questions of national identity and modernity by appealing to distant (and often fictitious) national pasts,10 8 On the trend towards translating Lieder into English during this period, see Laura Tunbridge, ‘Singing Translations: The Politics of Listening Between the Wars’, Representations, 123.1 (Summer, 2013), especially ‘Singing in English’, 55–66. 9 I will not address here the complex issue of distinctions between ‘British’ and ‘English’ national identities, my blurring of which reflects the practices of early twentieth-century British musical culture, as Alain Frogley has pointed out: see ‘Constructing Englishness in Music: National Character and the reception of Ralph Vaughan Williams’, in Vaughan Williams Studies, ed. Alain Frogley (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), 6, n. 9. 10 See Eric Hobsbawm and Terence Ranger, eds, The Invention of Tradition (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983). Over the past three decades, historians and musicologists have drawn upon such influential theories of nationalism in order to situate the English musical revival of the late nineteenth- and early twentieth centuries in relation to broader ‘inventions of tradition’ within contemporaneous British culture. See, for example, Meirion Hughes and Robert Stradling, The English Musical Renaissance 1840–1940: Constructing a National nd Music, 2 rev. edn. (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2001). 3 in search of ‘authentic’ sounds and experiences of musical Englishness that had supposedly been lost in an increasingly industrialized and urbanized society.11 As is suggested by Dent’s directive that the composer become a singer, song composition and performance were frequently imagined as powerful and connected practices through which to rediscover ‘pre-modern’ modes of English musical expression. In the words of another eminent musicologist, Jack Westrup, song – or rather, its community performance – represented the one traditional musical heritage to which England could lay claim. As he reflected in 1947, The English vein is no sentimental fiction; but it is easier to admit than to define. It is certainly something more than the supposed heartiness of ‘merrie England’ […] The background of our music is the world of amateurs […] The tradition we absorb is shaped by circumstances. Song still lives, because we are a singing nation. From Dowland to the present day the line, though sometimes thin, is scarcely broken.12 11 On the promotion of an idealized view of the countryside and its associated idealized past in English culture and literature, see, for example, Raymond Williams, The Country and the City (London: Chatto and Windus, 1973). For an analysis of the revival of historically remote musical idioms in relation to the early twentieth-century rural movement, see Alun Howkins, ‘The Discovery of Rural England’, in Englishness: Politics and Culture 1880–1920, ed. Robert Colls and Philip Dodd (London: Croom Helm, 1986), especially 70–4. 12 J. A. Westrup, ‘Music’, in The Character of England, ed. Ernest Barker (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1947). 4 Like Dent, Westrup associated the stylistic voice of twentieth-century English music with the literal voices of a historic singing public. In such constructions of national musical identity, the performance of song became a ‘crucible in which time and its memories are collected, reconstituted, and preserved’.13 In her study of music’s role in British cultural renewal after the Second World War, Heather Wiebe contends that the past imagined as sound figured powerfully in mid-century reconstructions of cultural continuity and community.14 A conception of sound as a portal to the past – one of a series of ‘invisible ties that bind people into communities, link[ing] the present with the past’15 – might be considered to have played a significant part in an earlier phase of British cultural renewal: that which characterized the early decades of the twentieth century, during which the revival of English music flourished. At the heart of this movement lay initiatives devoted as much to the recovery of the glories of England’s musical past, as to the regeneration of music making and music education in the nation, and in turn, to the development of 13 Daniel M. Neuman, ‘Epilogue: Paradigms and Stories’, in Ethnomusicology and Modern Music History, ed. Stephen Blum, Philip V. Bohlman, and Daniel M. Neuman (Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 1993), 269, cited in Caroline Bithell, ‘The Past in Music: Introduction’, Ethnomusicology Forum, 15.1 (June, 2006), 4. Bithell draws upon Neuman’s theorization of musical performance (especially in non- literate societies) in order to consider how ‘echoes of the past can still be heard in the music of the present’. As she maintains, ‘performance, particularly in the context of ritual, reaffirms the past and keeps it alive’. 14 Heather Wiebe, Britten’s Unquiet Pasts: Sound and Memory in Postwar Reconstruction (Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 2012). 15 Wiebe, Britten’s Unquiet Pasts, 2. 5 a distinctive compositional idiom in the music of native composers.16 While scholars have long assumed a link between these various ‘stages’ of the so-called renaissance, what remains less clear is how the regeneration of musical performance and education inspired the development of a particular compositional style.17 As I shall suggest, the notion of sounding a ‘pre-modern’ English voice became both an idea and a practice around which the various projects of early twentieth-century English musical revival converged. I propose in this article that the burden of defining a ‘native voice’ for English music fell not only to composers but to a community of English singers. The opening decades of the twentieth century saw an unprecedented outpouring of texts devoted to the subject of ‘singing and voice production’, as vocal pedagogues, physicians, and elocutionists gathered together to advise a broad British public on the production of the voice in singing, as much as in speaking.18 Emerging in part as a response to a 16 The classic histories of this movement are Frank Stewart Howes, The English Musical Renaissance (London: Secker & Warburg, 1966); Peter J.